Garnier City
by Idonquixote
Summary: Christine Daae is a bad girl running from the law. Stranded in a terrifying city, she catches the attention of the Phantom, its reluctant guardian. She soon becomes tangled in the Phantom's life, that of his nemesis, and the place known as Garnier City. Herein lies a tale of violence, crime, and redemption. EC


**I've still got 2 more in-progress Phantom fics but this idea's been nagging at me for a long time, so I decided to do a pilot chapter. I want to know if there's anyone interested in this story. It's a lot different from how I usually treat the POTO tale and it's the first time I'm writing for the ALW cast. It's also the first time I'm writing for EC- I'm typically an RC shipper, but for this fic's sake, I'm going the other route. So here goes!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera**

* * *

Papa Daae had been an upstanding member of society. He was the best father in the world, a mean violin player, and the best policeman in town. Any kid would be proud to have him as a father and anyone who said otherwise was a moron. Bullshit. Christine stepped on the pedal _hard_. The car zoomed ahead, waves of water splashing in the wake of its wheels. There was nothing but cold hard speed for the taking.

The rain pelted the windshield and Christine cursed the broken wipers yet again. The owner sure had a shitty car, for lack of better word. The rain was coming on heavy and fast, but it wasn't anything Christine was afraid of. Her grip tightened on the wheel as she steered._ Can't have you crash on me now!_ Not with all that money hidden in the passenger seat. Ken had been left behind. Well, you snooze, you lose.

The heist had been her idea anyway. She only needed him for his muscle. Robbing the de Chagny's hadn't been easy but it wasn't hard. Hacking their security was easy, a skill she had to thank her dear daddy for. In case of an emergency, he had once warned her. _I'd call this an emergency_. She took one sweaty palm off the wheel and wiped it against her worn jeans. The booty had been pawned within a week and Ken "Slick" was about to make off with it. She beat him to it.

The only downside was that she had to steal this crap car. At least Ken and his cronies wouldn't be able to do anything against her. Their fingerprints were all over the de Chagny manor.

She just had to get into the next city, miles and miles away from the last province, and she'd be "home free."

**Garnier City 20 Miles Ahead**

Red spotlights flashed past her, turning the decaying seats into shades of blood. They weren't policemen. She snorted- Garnier City was all flash and pomp as it came into view. Gigantic spotlights hung on its outskirts, the city itself a myriad of silver lights and clean tall skyscrapers, black in color. Her gas was running out.

_Almost there_. The worst of the worst wouldn't dare touch that city. It was infested with criminals and low lives. At the same time, she knew it had the toughest law enforcement there was- ironically- and that some power hungry mobster declared himself its king. Crazy shit. The place was a war zone, where the poor were _poor_ and the rich were rich. And the crimes were _crimes_. Much like most of the places she lived.

She'd fit right in. From what she knew, the only thing that kept the city in tact was another of its freaks, some guy in a mask who had a reputation for being outright sadistic with the city's "trash." He was the only rumor she worried about. What was he called again? The Phantom, if Ken was correct. He was as real as that lunatic mobster, the Rat King or whatever, and given the knocks that Christine had gone through in her life, she didn't doubt them for a second.

**Garnier City, Praise the Founder**

She stared at the large billboard, in the perimeters at last. _Not even a welcome_. Christine veered the beat-up little car into a nearby alley, away from the blinding streetlights and into equally blinding shadows. She refused to turn on the headlights. To her disgust, a swarm of rats chose that moment to rush past the car, squeaking and bumping against the wheels.

Sirens.

Shit. She heard the sound of police sirens zoom past her. She drove on into the alley, hoping the night would never end and that the rain would let up soon. She had to get somewhere, somewhere safe.

Bunt!

"What gives?" she hissed, hearing the engine give out. The vehicle had run into a dumpster and the car was refusing to move. Shoving the car door open, Christine jumped out, landing in a puddle of muddy water. Too damn dark to see a thing.

Chck. Chck. Bending by the rear wheel, Christine noticed a small brown rat nibbling at the rubber, literally tearing the material off. _Gross_. Cursing her luck, the brunette went to the front and checked the area. All clear. She pulled open the shotgun door and stuck her hands into the seat, lugging a crumpled sack out. It was filled with her "earnings" but she made sure the sack could pass as an overnight bag. She hugged it to her chest and began the dreaded walk ahead.

The rain matter her curls and water was getting into her eyes. It was uncomfortable and she was soaked to the bone, but the sack was still relatively dry, thanks to her body as a shield. _Too dark to see a thing_. With a huff, she walked on, grimacing when water entered her shoes. Well, it wasn't like she hadn't been caught in the rain before.

If worse came to worst, there was still the switchblade in her pocket. Ken had taken the gun. Dickhead.

She could make out the form of a dilapidated, old car. It looked like something from the 50s' and completely out of place. Christine took a moment to rest against its side- it was probably left there by someone who found a newer better vehicle. That's what happens to old, useless things. Like papa, she thought bitterly.

She planned to get out of the alley as soon as she could and walk the block in shadows until a decent place to stay showed up. She wouldn't risk getting seen by the cops. They were on the hunt for _someone_, she could tell.

Something sharp sank into her calve. Holding back a yelp, Christine kicked the side of the car, shaking off a larger rat in the process. Its fur pricked, the eyes glaring into her. She knelt, hissing in pain. The glint of blood shone off the rat's teeth.

She wouldn't show fear, not now. It wasn't like she had to fear a dumb rat- just kill it. But the thought made her sick; killing anything made her sick, save the occasional small bug. She could barely see and the pain was getting worse with each second.

The rat jumped at her without warning and this time, Christine _did_ shout- there was just something unnatural about the creature's eyes- and back up. Her shoulder hit the car rather painfully and just as those beady eyes closed in on her, a swish of fabric whipped past her, obscuring her vision momentarily.

Huff.

The car's headlights chose that moment to light up and in that dim flood, she saw the silhouette of a man. _What?_ His black coat went down to his knees, the first thing she was able to make out. The next thing she was aware of was the man's burning gaze, a fiery amber from-

Breathe.

Behind a dark mask that covered every feature except his mouth, set in a frown. He tilted his head, the brim of his fedora lowering with the movement. That was when she saw the dead rat in his gloved hand, crushed to death, its eyes dead and vacant. The rain outlined them in white.

She was unable to look away from him. He was as still as a statue, staring at her in a way so calm and intense that almost made her wonder if he was even there. There was an aurora about him, one that froze her. Her mouth opened, the filthy taste of rainwater entering as she struggled to speak.

_Damn it..._

"Phantom..." was all she could say.

And for a moment, she believed he really was one, tall, foreboding, and clad in black. His gaze lingered on her, unnatural.

"Your leg," he said, "have it tended."

So all those crazy stories were true. But no one ever told her about that voice, that borderline unearthly hypnotic voice. Christine didn't think she'd ever heard anyone sound so damn good.

The sound of sirens and the flash of red and blue lights brought her back to reality.

"And mademoiselle," he added, "I never allow a troublemaker to plague my domain for long."

"Garnier police department!"

Two police cars were parked in front of them, their headlights trained on her and the sirens making her head swirl. Christine stepped back, only to be nudged forward by the man who could only be the Phantom.

Four figures rushed towards her, dressed in the sky blue jackets of their profession, and wearing helmets that obscured her vision of their faces. Only one of them kept his head revealed, an oddly familiar face framed by dregs of clean golden hair. He shined a flashlight at her and Christine instinctively shielded her eyes with one hand.

Oh shit.

"Show me your face," he demanded, voice cool.

She didn't.

Another officer threw himself at her and wrenched her arm away, earning a yell of protest. She kicked him in the knee, but it was too late. She had been seen and it wasn't long before she was pinned to a man's chest while the leftover one handcuffed her.

When she was released at last, a cop on each arm, the young man she assumed to be the leader regarded her severely.

"Christine Daae?"

"No."

The man frowned, casting the Phantom a glance. He had been standing by her the entire time, and somehow, Christine knew this was his fault. And in that moment, any awe she felt towards him dissipated. Fuck you, her eyes said at him. He seemed to smirk at her glare.

"It's her," the Phantom said.

She wanted to rip his vocal chords out.

"Miss Daae, you're under arrest," the blond cop declared, flicking his chin at the cars, "For theft and trespassing."

Christine tried to force her way out of their grip, bruising her shoulders in the process, but she knew it was futile. They were pushing her towards the blond's car as she flailed.

She saw the prettyboy cop nod grudgingly at the Phantom and the latter bow back. She elbowed her captors hard- damn it damn it damn it! When her head was in the car's roof, she turned around and stared out the back window, only to see nothing left in the Phantom's spot. They zoomed off and that little alley faded into a void of black.

Like a ghost, he had disappeared.

_A ghost_. Christine felt chills, a feeling she hadn't had in a very long time.

"You should know better than to rob the de Chagnys," the blond chimed in from behind the wheel, "Or to bring trouble to Garnier City."

Christine snorted, annoyed at his voice.

"I see you've met our vigilante- he's not one to cross."

She continued ignoring him, looking out the windows and watching the city lights flash to and fro, blurs of red and white.

"Little Lotte." She could practically hear the sneer in his voice.

Christine froze. Only two people called her that, and one was dead. _Don't tell me-_

"Raoul de Chagny, I don't know if the name rings a bell." He had the nerve to chuckle.

The name did ring a bell. Raoul. She had completely forgotten about him. The day by the sea, her red scarf, papa, goody two shoes. De fucking Chagny, how could she have forgotten that name? Christine let her head bump the window, gritting her teeth at this twist in fate.

* * *

It stung.

It hurt.

"Stop it already!" Christine snapped. The girl binding her wound flashed her a grin, her blue eyes lighting up.

"You sound awfully pumped up for someone who just got arrested," she said, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her eyes. The nurse was younger than Christine had expected- she wouldn't put it past de fucking Chagny to get some old grumpy medic to tend to her. This blonde was a tad surprising.

Blondie cut away the hanging gauze and patted Christine's leg before she stood up and stretched. "Now, don't put pressure on it. It's gonna hurt for quite a while."

"I'm going to jail anyway. It shouldn't matter."

Blondie shrugged- Meg Giry, her name tag flashed. Christine preferred blondie. She hated everyone in this city already.

"I'll be going now. Raoul should be here in a sec."

"Go away."

Meg's smile never left her face as she skipped out the door of the interrogation room, her butt swishing behind her. Christine groaned, burying her head in her lap. Footsteps entered and the lights seemed to go brighter.

Someone tapped her head.

"Hey."

With a frown, Christine sat back up, more than uncomfortable. Her hair was still wet and the only source of warmth she had was the blanket draped around her. Not to mention the bruises on her form or the rat bite or the fact that she hadn't slept in over two days.

Raoul de fucking Chagny sat by her. Not across. By. Christine lifted her bound wrists, showing the cuffs at him.

"Take these off."

"Afraid I can't do that yet. You're a wanted woman, lotte."

"Stop calling me that."

"I don't think you're in any position to make commands now." Raoul leaned back, folding his hands behind his head.

"Come on, Raoul. I was the girl by the sea. You loved me then. Can't you do it again?"

"It was in the past."

He acted a lot older than he looked. Raoul spoke again. "Chief's offering you a deal, lotte. Ken Slick knows you and you know him- don't ask me how we know because I'm not telling- he's still on the run. And Slick's gang won't be coming back to Garnier City any time soon. He's in a lot of trouble here."

He produced a small key from his belt.

"You help us get him. And in return, you've got the chief's protection and you go free. The price is we decide where you go and when."

"You're not kidding?"

Raoul shook his head. Christine eyed the key greedily.

"The money?"

"It should go to the de Chagnys, though I'll try to put it to better use." He said it coldly, as if that wasn't his family. The young cop was bitter and on edge, and Christine had triggered it all.

"Do I get a place to stay? I'm kind of homeless right now."

"Listen, Christine, I want to be friend your again. But we've both gone down some bad paths, but yours is the worst." His tone softened. "Say you'll help me and we'll help you. That's all you need to do."

She considered his words and the deal. That money was supposed to last her for the next ten years. She was supposed to start over after all this. She was supposed to live like a de fucking Chagny.

Damn the Phantom.

"I'll do it."

What else was there to do? Like hell she was rotting in jail.

* * *

Daae had not been what he expected. Her features were too soft, her eyes too vulnerable, her body too small- even her voice was too soft. She was a good actress, he knew, but from that one glance, that one moment he caught her without defenses, he had seen the real Christine Daae. The girl was nothing like the front she put on.

Perhaps that was why he waited so long before revealing himself to her.

He turned around, the streetlight on the corner shining dimly down on him. The city never slept and neither did he.

"Phantom," a voice hissed.

Living proof. The Phantom stared ahead, at the figures walking towards him. There was hardly enough light on the abandoned street but he had never needed it. His vision had always been perfect, with or without light. He didn't move.

Eight, he counted. Shabbily dressed men ranging from their early twenties to their late forties, each carrying an object in their bruised hands. Knives, bats, maybe even guns. His eyes narrowed.

"I told you we'd make ya pay."

He recognized their faces vaguely. They were from a gang he had battered and broken some time ago. His hand dug into his coat and the outline of a mask greeted their eyes.

"I believe that won't be happening," he said dryly.

The first man charged at him, swinging his weapon wildly. The masked man side stepped, just as another slashed at the air with a glint of silver. He danced past punches and slashes, the fabric of his coat barely brushing against the bats. The eighth gang member stabbed from behind, only to have the Phantom whip around and yank his arm forward. He twisted it and the knife plunged into the side of another attacker.

There was a cry of pain as the Phantom released him and snatched a bat in motion. He brought it against the side of the sixth man's head, watching with satisfaction as blood splattered out. The third man was about to fire his shotgun when a lasso wound itself around his neck, nearly crushing his windpipe. The bullet hit the fifth man in the kneecap.

The second man dropped his bat, unable to escape the Phantom's speed as those gloved hands wound around him, the lasso catching him in a strangle. He fell just in time to be thrown at the seventh man, rendering them both useless on the ground.

With moans of pain in his ears and blood on the streets, the Phantom stopped to smooth the wrinkles in his otherwise immaculate clothing. The fedora had not even fallen. He straightened and stared at the first man, the one who had initiated the attack, a middle aged man with dark brown hair and muscular build. The one who would have been the leader.

The Phantom coiled the lasso around his hand.

The man ran.

It wasn't enough. The Phantom was by him in a flash and a swift flick to the head from the lasso was enough to fell him.

Sigh.

He wasn't tired. Barely a sweat had broken. Good. The Phantom smirked at his opponents as he tucked the punjab back in its place. Folding his hands behind his back, he waited for the last man to step out. The one who had been watching the entire time.

He tilted his head in greeting at the newcomer.

"No one died tonight, I hope."

The man was middle eastern in feature, his face hard and framed with a light beard. He took a drag from his cigarette, his trench coat blowing with the wind. The Phantom shrugged.

"You'd have my head if anyone did, daroga. Though some are no better than scum."

The other man sighed, smiling at the Phantom's bitter attempts at humor.

"I thought I'd update you, Erik- that girl you caught earlier, she will be helping my new operation."

"Staying in the city then?"

"Yes."

That was interesting. Erik decided he would keep special observation of the girl. It had been so long since anyone had caught his interest.

"I'll be off now, daroga."

The darker man nodded as the Phantom walked off, leaving the high chief of the Garnier police force behind.

A scream.

He ran towards it. The city never slept and neither did he. Several screams. As he zipped past the walls of Garnier City, his hand instinctively tightened around the punjab. It was the RAT's doing.

And it was the Phantom's job to keep the RAT at bay.

* * *

**So how was it? Was this pilot interesting? Review to let me know! And thanks for reading!**

**I know there are lots of parodies of Erik as a superhero, but I've yet to see one that took it seriously, haha. Since he resembles a supervillain more than a hero, I thought it'd be a fun challenge, so this was born.**


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